the country lane was lonely . terrified , she faced the man who barred her way . he gripped her arm &amp;hellip; then he suddenly turned and ran as he heard . voices in the dark . a short story by Trevor Allen . as dusk deepened to darkness in the gloomy beechwood Sheila shivered . shadows on either side of the path scared her . she was out of breath , stumbling over roots and ruts , pressing on to reach the road before utter darkness swallowed her . if she had n&apos;t taken the wrong path on the common and gone miles out of her way , she would have been home long before sunset . now she felt , with mounting terror , that she might never find the road at all and have to spend the night huddled in the shelter of bushes or a hedge . what a fool she &apos;d been to come on this walk alone ! but she &apos;d set out in a temper . she was fed up , desperate to get away from everyone for an hour or two - especially father . he &apos;d been nagging her again . nothing she did ever pleased him . he was a builder &apos;s foreman and seemed to think he could order her about as he did his men - as if she was still a child instead of a girl of seventeen earning her own living . when she grew her hair beehive style because other girls were doing it , he said : why do you have to have your hair like that ? it &apos;s hideous ! when she bought her first stiletto-heeled shoes he grumbled : how can you walk on those things , wobbling at every step ? they &apos;ll ruin your feet - and the carpets , too . he did n&apos;t like her wearing jeans . he objected to her going to the juke-box caf&amp;eacute; where her friends met regularly . the last straw . she &apos;d just bought a transistor radio set . when he saw it all he could say was : why on earth do you want to cart that about with you everywhere ? you &apos;ve got the telly at home ; is n&apos;t that enough ? I like it , she had retorted , stung by this latest reproof . and it &apos;s my own money . I can listen to what I want any time , and it does n&apos;t do any harm . why must you always be getting at me , Dad ? nothing I ever do is right ! it &apos;s just a waste of money , he had persisted . you ought to start saving now you &apos;re in a good job , as your mother and I did when we were young . the transistor was the last straw - over Sunday tea , too . she had sulked , then wandered out , past the new housing estate on the outskirts , up the road that climbed to the beechwoods and common , on and on , furious , rebellious , thinking over and over : if Dad does n&apos;t stop going on at me I &apos;ll leave home and get a room somewhere . I &apos;d do it now if it was n&apos;t for mother . Mother had always tried to smooth things out , saying : she &apos;s young , she &apos;ll learn . but father was obstinate , domineering . panic . that was how , too angry to notice where she was going , she had taken a wrong path back and got lost . but at last , with thankful relief , she came out on to the road and saw , through a gap in the hedge , the town lights in the valley . it was little more than a lane between high hedges . the lights looked a long way off . the road seemed to want to imprison her in its funnelled gloom . as she set off along it she heard footsteps approaching ahead of her and crossed over to the opposite side . good evening ! said a thick voice in the darkness , as a man came abreast of her . too scared to reply , she hurried on - then became aware that he had suddenly turned and was following her . the footsteps behind terrified her . she quickened her pace . the man quickened his , too , and was overtaking her . panic seized her . she thought of the murders she &apos;d read about - of girls waylaid on lonely roads like this , girls missing for days , weeks , with search parties scouring the countryside , and then , in some hidden spot &amp;hellip; . oh , God , she prayed , let me get home safely , let me get home , away from this terror ! she wanted to run , but did n&apos;t want to show she was afraid , it might make things worse . her tight new skirt was hampering to the knees , and she wondered if she could run . terror had taken the strength from her legs . she prayed that someone would suddenly come along the lane out of the darkness and save her . as the footsteps drew close behind her she crossed to the other side of the road again , still frantically hurrying , panting and palpitating with fright . the man came alongside . she stopped , with her back to the hedge , facing him . in a hurry , are n&apos;t you ? he slurred . thought you might like company &amp;hellip; like ... . his breath smelt of drink . his tone was bantering , insinuating . he towered above her , an evil shadow in the night . please ! she gasped , her heart pounding . I do n&apos;t want company . please ! someone &apos;s coming . she made to pass , but he blocked the way . a nice girl like you , he smirked , all alone . you can be a bit friendly , can n&apos;t you ? I &apos;m alone , too . maybe we &apos;d get on all right . maybe &amp;hellip; . she tried to sidestep him . he caught her arm . a nice girl like you , he repeated . the grip numbed her . she felt she was going to faint . then &amp;hellip; dimly , distantly , voices sounded in the stillness . they seemed to come from down the road . two men were talking . now the voices sounded nearer , slightly louder , but still remote . thank heaven , she was no longer alone , at his mercy &amp;hellip; . help me ! she screamed . help ! help ! then , wrenching her arm away from him : now you &apos;ll get what you deserve , you beast ! someone &apos;s coming ! startled , the man instantly released his grip and backed away from her . she heard him running up the road , the way they had come . relieved , she started running in the opposite direction , towards the lights and the town , lifting her skirt to free her knees . half running half walking , stumbling , she did n&apos;t slow down until she was out of breath and the lights of the new housing estate glimmered ahead . and now she knew whence the voices came . involuntarily , as the man gripped her right arm , her finger had touched and turned the knob on top of the transistor , held by the strap in her left hand - this had been just enough to tune in faintly to the two men talking . luckily he had heard them , too . waste of money ! it might have been tuned to another station . it might have been music instead of a discussion , a play , or whatever it was . she might have turned it full on instead of faintly , so that the voices seemed to come from a distance , down the road &amp;hellip; . then she hurried home to tell her father what the waste of money had done for her on the lonely road in the dark , with no one near to aid her . the menacing gunman was getting impatient as she stalled for time . her position seemed hopeless &amp;hellip; then her desperate plan showed him that &amp;hellip; . diamonds are hard to get . a short story by Sheila Burns . Cherry backed her car up the drive to the garage , glad to be home . she had hated every moment of the television theatre away from her young , adored husband . she saw the light in his study and guessed that he was working on a new TV play . closing the garage doors behind her , she was about to turn when she felt the cold muzzle of a gun against her back . just a minute , said a gruff voice . quickly it flashed through her mind that it was John &apos;s anniversary gift the man was after . the newspapers had carried a story about it - a diamond brooch , and her first really expensive gift . perhaps the man thought she had been wearing it at the broadcast . but it had been left at home in the tiny safe behind the picture of Mount Everest in the sitting room . what do you want ? she asked . that brooch . I &apos;m not wearing it . a muffet . walk to the house , the man commanded , and do n&apos;t look back . go inside and I &apos;ll follow . is your husband asleep ? he &apos;s working late , she said . go in just as you would if I was n&apos;t with you . the house was empty , except for John and Bongo , the dog . Cherry walked up the side path to the door ; her fingers shivered as she put the key in the lock . she paused - and the gun prodded still harder in her back as the man said : go on . from upstairs , John called : that you , Cherry ? yes , darling , I &apos;m back . everything OK ? this was the moment . she broke into a sweat , then said automatically : everything &apos;s all right . she crossed the little hall , the man close up behind her . Bongo was whining from the kitchen where he had been put to bed for the night . she walked into the little sitting room where she and John spent their happiest hours together . usually she did n&apos;t come into this room immediately she returned home , and hoped that John would hear and notice it . but nothing happened . she had to attract his attention somehow , for she was in a muffet . that was what they had always called getting into a jam . as a child John had called a muddle a muffet - Miss Muffet and the spider he had explained and laughed at her . what are you going to do ? she asked the gunman . playing for time . she turned to face him , agony in her heart and hoping that she would not faint . he was smaller than she expected - a little rat of a man with close-set eyes . I want a drink , he said . there was a bottle of beer on the sideboard . she fetched it and held it out to him . put it on the table , lady , he said , still pointing the gun at her , and then tell me where the brooch is . it &apos;s in the safe . she spoke the truth , for she thought he might already know that John had got a home-made safe for it . a woman &apos;s magazine had used the story as an item in the home life of celebrities . I read about the safe , the man said . where is it ? she conquered the compelling desire to take a quick glance at the picture of Everest , and with her first flash of spirit , said : that is my secret . I could make you tell me . I &apos;m here to get what I want . I live this way . but the big breaks are too tricky for me . I want small pulls , something that fences do n&apos;t shy at , diamonds without a history behind them , but big enough to bring in the next meal . he rapped the gun . open that bottle for me , he said , and pour it out . with a head on it &amp;hellip; that &apos;s right . now tell me where , lady . she was amazed at the courage with which she said : they &apos;re upstairs . you could get &apos;em for me ? yes . but unless I went along with you , you &apos;d tell your husband , I bet . if I did go with you , he &apos;d know , anyway . I wonder . the man drank the beer , held out the glass for more , and for a second she faltered . she had got to think of some way out ; the longer she lingered , the easier it could be , for sooner or later John would realize that something was wrong . closely the man eyed her . if you do n&apos;t get it for me , lady , maybe I &apos;ll go right up and shoot your husband . I could . she winced . surely we could settle this between us , she said suddenly . it would be easier to give the man the brooch , but somehow she still had a hope of not doing that . you &apos;ve got to get it for me , the man said between his teeth . terrified . then she heard John &apos;s sudden footstep overhead and wondered if at last he realized that something was wrong . 